Drip, Drip Goes the Rest of My Heart
by Tori101
Summary: AU. Pain only discovered from scars haunts the boy who refuses vainly to recall the past four years of his life.  Sins that burn under the boy’s fingernails and skin threaten to ruin him.  Sanctuary is a myth, but false hope isn’t. Akuroku RS Dark Abuse
1. White Lies Don’t Hurt as Much Just Worse

**Drip, Drip Goes the Rest of My Heart**

AU. Pain only discovered from scars haunts the boy who refuses vainly to recall the past four years of his life. Sins that burn under the boy's fingernails and skin threaten to ruin him. Sanctuary is a myth, but false hope isn't. Akuroku RS Dark Abuse

_**Disclaimer**_: I don't own Kingdom Hearts…

**Warning**: This story will not only be boy-boy love and have some dark themes, but also have some pretty heavy torture and abuse that may be darker than you'd expect from me (I plan on making it all much worse than _**For You and I**_), so you may want to have something to laugh at once I really get into the story. I got this idea after having seen the movie **Hostel**, and anyone who hasn't seen it yet, don't bother, it's, it's too _terrible_ for words! It should have been called **Boobs and Blood** since that's all it was…Anyway, if you still plan on reading, go on ahead!

**Phase 1 White Lies Don't Hurt as Much, Just Worse**

There was movement…within his body. _How strange, that I'm still not dead yet…_the young teen thought to himself as he continued to stare up into the bright fluorescent lights above him, blinding his eyes. He was numb; he could no longer feel anything in his body, or whatever was left of it. For all he knew, one of his arms could have been amputated, or maybe a few toes. Who knew? Surely he didn't, since his body seemed to have been shut off from his brain completely.

But the faint feeling of something running against his arm caused his to turn his head just barely to the right, as though he'd be able to see what it was he thought he felt. But just the simple movement made his body protest, and he could have groaned from the strange feeling that he guessed might be pain that shot up through his chest and neck. But the action also seemed to awaken his body some-what, and he discovered his right arm seemed to have a feeling similar to being asleep and a weightlessness that he tried to realize he could actually feel.

Then he heard it.

A quiet drip that seemed to echo through the room and through his ears continuously, before a sound just like the first followed and proceeded to flood his sense of hearing. A dripping that sounded much like the noise a leaky faucet created. It was hypnotic, and strange to his ever growing fuzzy mind. It took him a few moments to register where the dripping was coming from, and when he did; he also discovered what the feeling he barely felt in his arm was.

His right arm was hanging lifelessly over the edge of the metal table he was lying on, and whatever was dripping was coming from his benumbed fingertips. Listening to the _drip-drip-drip_ of whatever it was for what seemed like hours but must really have been minutes, he slowly began to feel a strange languor, a lack of energy, that he didn't even know was possible to feel within his current state slowly cause a feeling akin to drowsiness fill him. His lips parted aversely, severely chapped and chaffing while sticking together as though having been glued, and it was as though he was trying to form words his voice wouldn't back up, and he slowly began to close his eyes.

But instead of his vision growing dark, it began to grow lighter and lighter around the edges till all he saw was an infinite witness. An abyss that seemed to house something only he could see, and it would have frightened him beyond measure if he'd had the energy to be afraid, and then everything went dark in neither blackness or shadow, just a colorless and indefinable darkness…as though someone had turned off the lights.

Three more drops of blood traveling down one of the many hairline trickles of blood running down his arm made their way down to his wrist where they swirled down to his hand, and each made their way down to a separate finger. All taking the time span of nearly five minutes, after the journey, they finally slipped down the already blood-slick fingers of the boy's right hand, and fell like a curtain to the floor. The white, white floor that gleamed in the obscenely bright light from the fluorescent bulbs above, except in the areas stained both pink and rust-red brown. But a thick trail of deepest red was slowly crossing the threshold of the room, and down to the center of the room where the drain grate was slowly welcoming the stream of blood that fell into its abyss. The puddle the three drops landed in was one of the few sources to this stream, and had spread in a thin layer over the stained tiles, sucking at any clean spots still left as though vermin stealing every grain of rice.

As the three drops disappeared within the drain, sounds of a door opening and footsteps accompanied by urgent voices echoed within the room. Maybe for the last time, or maybe not…

* * *

The thick bandages circling his fingers were too thick, too warm, and too uncomfortable. But he'd rather look at his fingers that looked as thick as sausages than look at what lay beneath the gauze. He'd seen what truly lay beneath them, and nearly threw up the small portion of food that he'd been able to eat that morning. 

Glancing to his right, his eyes fell across the dark blue curtain blocking his vision of the other patient he was sharing the room with. He'd only seen her once, and that was when the girl had started screaming at two o'clock in the morning, waking him and alerting at least several nurses. The curtain had been pulled back and he'd gotten a glimpse of a red haired girl and she was clutching her wrist while howling in pain. He'd seen blood spilling out from between her fingers, and his heart began to race as he broke out into a cold sweat, and he felt as though an iron weight had been placed on his chest.

He'd all but passed out when his eyes fell upon the bloody scalpel that sat on the floor where the girl must have dropped it. When he'd awoken, it was morning, and the curtain had been redrawn, but he could hear the girl's peaceful breathing just those few feet away. It was also the morning that Dr. Valentine had come to see him after breakfast, and checked up on him, having also witness the boy's reaction to the unveiling of his hands. Hence, just a few hours later, he was now sitting up in bed, though it was just a bit painful, and contemplating his thoughts.

His eyes, though, moved from the curtain, back to his hands and the bandages carpeting them, and then to his left towards the window. The fading, late afternoon light was casting an orange glow to everything it could reach in the room, and the boy had the view of a city he couldn't name. He'd gazed out this window a few times, and had raked his brain, trying to place it, but he just couldn't. He thought it seemed familiar, but he pushed it off as unimportant.

But the thought that did remain, was why hospital rooms made it so that there was usually only one window, or usually only one patient would be able to see the windows if the curtain was drawn. Not glancing towards the curtain that split the room in half, the boy nestled deeper into the hospital bed pillows, still staring out the window. He wondered if the girl would have preferred to get the bed closest to the window.

He was so deeply caught up in his thoughts, he didn't hear the footsteps or notice the man standing a foot away from the foot of the bed till he spoke. "Roxas?"

The boy stiffened a bit from surprise and confusion, and he quickly turned his head, blue eyes wide, to stare at the tall, dark haired man dressed in a white coat. He felt a bit strange, hearing the nurses and his doctor calling him by his name, but that was only because he'd first heard it just barely two days ago when he first awoke in the hospital. He'd had no idea what he was doing their, or where or who he was for that matter. He hadn't been told the entire situation, and merely told he'd been in an accident, and that his name was Roxas. Roxas Highwind.

"Oh, Dr. Valentine," the boy stammered out, lifting his hand to brush blonde bangs out of his eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were there," he admitted with an apologetic smile. For some reason, it felt strange for him to smile, as though it was an extremely foreign expression to him. In fact, he found that he seemed to always be in a depressed sort of mood, as though heavy weights were attached to his shoulders and were weighing him down underwater. He hadn't even been able to laugh when one of the nurses had made a joke about the hospital food. An apologetic smile was the best he could come up with, and it seemed to be the only one he could make.

"It's all right, Roxas," the long haired doctor interjected with a wave of his hand. His garnet red eyes scanned the blonde's side of the room, finding a chair beside the bed, and the man made his way over to it, his shoe heels making a dull clicking on the tile floor. After he sat down, he sat up straight, but had a casual air around him that showed he was calm and relaxed, and set his clipboard down on his knee.

"Was…there something you wanted to speak with me about?" the boy asked curiously as he slowly hid his bandaged hands in the folds of the hospital blanket. Even though the doctor knew what lay beneath the bandages, Roxas felt ashamed of them and himself for having them, along with the strange feeling to want to keep them out of site.

"Actually, yes, there is something I want to speak with you about," the man explained, his voice soft and seemingly sympathetic. "Roxas, tell me, what do you remember?" the doctor asked, his eyes already holding a look that seemed to say that he already knew the answer.

"I-I don't know, I really don't remember anything specific." Roxas admitted, staring down into his lap, a touch of apprehension in his voice. "I can remember stuff like numbers, or names of some plants I learned about, but I don't remember faces. I can't remember my parents, if I had them, and I can't remember whatever got me here," the boy added, his voice soft and quiet, and also barely able to hear, as though he was getting his voice back. "Does this mean I've got…amnesia, or something?" he asked.

Nodding, Dr. Valentine glanced down at his clipboard, and looked back up at Roxas, "Roxas, you have what's called Dissociative Amnesia, which results from psycological trauma or a psycologically traumatic experience."

"Are…are you saying _I_ did this to myself?" Roxas inquired with a hint of horror in his voice as he lifted a hand to indicate to his head.

"In a way, yes," Dr. Valentine said. "It was a psycological defense mechanism that your mind triggered on it's own to protect itself, to protect you. Something very traumatic was happening to you, and you shut yourself away from it by blocking it out, resulting in your memoryloss." Dr. Valentine explained while trying to keep it simple enough for the fifteen year old to understand. "Though it must have been very extensive for you to have forgotten so much," the man added almost as though to himself.

"W-what do you mean?" the boy asked, confusion slipping over his eyes.

"Most cases of Dissociative Amnesia are related to rape victims or victims to very violent attacks, and just remove the memories of the incident. Now, it's not _uncommon_, persay, to have forgotten the memories over a long and widespread peroid of time, though it's rare and a bit unusual. The event that triggered your amnesia must have been what we could call, a ' _last straw_,' I suppose,"

"Um, I'm not a…" the boy began, but stopped seeing the reasuring smile on his doctor's pale lips.

"No, your case, as far as we know, is not of those two natures," the black haired man stated, bringing what could be seen as instant relief to the blonde. "Well, I think that's enough for now, Roxas, you should get some rest," the man said, the same words he'd said when he'd left Roxas that morning.

As the doctor got up to leave, Roxas looked as though he was about to reach out for the doctor, but he pressed his hands further into the blanket: No one would want to be touched by such ugly, tainted hands. "Um, Doctor?" the boy asked, a slight bit of urgency in his voice.

"Yes?" the man asked, turning around to look down at the boy.

"Uh, I wanted to, well, I was wondering…that girl, over there," he stammered, feeling a bit uncomfortable asking about her, especially since his mind kept flashing images of the blood running over her fingers, and the scapel with a bloodied blade he'd seen on the floor.

"Ah, she's fine now, though she must just be sleeping lightly since the sedative would have worn off by now," the doctor explained. "But last night, as I think you're aware, she attempted suicide by cutting her wrist open with a scalpel she must have slipped from a nurse's tray. She's on suicide watch now, and a nurse has been checking in on her every so often. Though I'm sure you wouldn't have noticed anyway, hm?" the man mentioned, a bit of amusement in his voice.

"Oh, thank you, Dr. Valentine," Roxas said, and then watched as the man left, disappearing behind the curtain, and soon after followed by the closing of a door. It was then Roxas realized that he hadn't asked the man what he or whatever other doctors who were in charge of him knew what had caused him to give himself amnesia.

Sighing, he laid back down into the bed, wishing he could have turned onto one of his sides but finding that it hurt and sent pain rushing through his chest and arms. It really wasn't worth it when his back hurt the least when lying down. Deciding to follow Dr. Valentine's advice, he tried to relax himself and get some sleep. But his thoughts lingered on the red haired girl sleeping on the other side of the room, and he wondered if one of the many scars he was able to see was ever caused by a failed suicide attempt. The thought haunted him into the darkness that was known as sleep, and he couldn't block the picture and imageless dreams of blood, knives, and screams.

* * *

Reaching his office, Vincent Valentine sighed as he entered the room and closed the door behind him, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he walked over to his desk. He seemed as though he hadn't noticed the blonde man sitting on the couch that rested against the right wall of his office between a cupoard and sink counter, and a bookcase filled with medical books and tomes. 

But after taking a seat in the brown leather chair behind his desk, he sighed as though something heavy were weighing down on his shoulders, and after merely setting his clipboard down on the desktop, and then moving to pick up an open folder that sat precauriously on the edge of his desk, he finally acknowledged the other man.

"Cloud," he began, as though that one word held the value of an entire conversation. The man, who'd been watching him the moment he stepped into the room, shifted his position on the couch before standing, a serious expression on his face.

"Roxas is his name, right?" the man asked in a very businesslike fashion as he strode over to the desk. Dr. Valentine nodded in response, and put down the folder, which was labeled **Highwind, Roxas** in two places: on the tab and the upper left hand corner on the face of the file. Cloud reached over for it and llifted it up, his thumb grazing the edge of the small picture paperclipped to the first page of the file. It was a picture of Roxas that the hospital had retrieved from his school records, and showed a very despondent young man who couldn't break a smile for the camera, and whose eyes looked haunted to the point of abyssal hollowness.

"Yes, Roxas Highwind," Vincent clarified, staring at the paper face-up on his clipboard, unknowingly rereading the words printed over it.

"What do you and Tifa know about him?" the man asked softly, his voice taking on a caring tone. "About his case, I mean," he added, looking up towards the doctor.

"Ms. Lockhart is handlinng the legal and judicial work, I'm simply his doctor," the man responded quickly, making the blonde man exhale in annoyance.

"Do you always have to give that speech when I ask about a kid?" Cloud questioned in aggravation as he looked over the file once more.

"It's only for the sake of my position, Cloud," Vincent replied with a small smile. But it fell the moment he turned back to the original topic, "But Tifa has spoken with police officals, and the evidence is quite overwhelmingly significant, though much of it is on that boy."

"Apparently the floor and table of that basement as well," Cloud muttered, knowing the basics of the case from the information he'd first heard from Tifa Lockhart. "They found him there, almost dead, right?"

"Correct…But what we found was horrifying, what that man did to him…" Vincent murmured, his voice heated by anger and disgust. "Someone with such vast medical knowledge and history doing that to an innocent child, his own son, no less…" Vincent seethed, his hands shaking as he clasped them together tightly to try and calm himself.

"Step son, you mean," Cloud interjected, though he didn't mean anything by it, and new perfectly well what the other was trying to say. "But I bet it was worse than your tests make you think," the blonde added softly in an understanding tone, his blue eyes growing dark for a moment before he blinked it away. "It proved to be extensive, right? And those scars…It makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up when I think about it."

"Mm…" the dark haired male hummed, staring into space as though his thoughts were being projected into the air around them in his office.

"You said it was Dissociative Amnesia, right? For his memories to be locked down that far, it makes me sick to my stomach to think of how long this was going on, this…_torture_…" Cloud whispered, visibly shuddering. After a moment, he'd regained his composure, and looked back towards the other man, closing the folder and placing it on the desk. "Vincent, when do you plan on sending him with me?" the blonde asked, his caring and soft tone replaced by business once again.

"As soon as Ms. Lockhart finishes the paperwork, he'll be ready, I presume. I'd guess around tomorrow, late morning to early afternoon," Cloud nodded, and made his way out of the office, grabbing his coat that was lying on the couch.

"All right, and tell Tifa I send my regards," the blonde said as he was about ready to leave the office, closing the door after seeing Vincent's passive glance of farewell.

Vincent then opened Roxas' file again, and stared down at the medical information, and then glancing towards his clipboard which held legal documents Tifa had practically risked her job to secretly fax over to him concerning Roxas' case. Though it wouldn't be the first time the social worker had done so for the sake of a child. The information just fueled his anger and repugnance even more. What was worse, and what was sitting uncomfortably at the pit of his stomach, was the fact that he'd lied to Roxas.

They knew he'd suffered greatly, just from the simple examinations they'd first put him through, and then the more intensive examinations had only proved and solidified many theories, along with horrifying a few doctors and nurses. But their science could only go so far. They knew very well what they had strong reason to believe was his torture that caused him to block his memories, but they wouldn't be able to know if if had been aided by rape or something of sexual nature. Had Roxas been a girl, they may have had a chance, but of course he was male, and from what they could tell, there were no marks around the genitalia region, so they had nothing to prove from it. But that didn't mean that it wasn't possible.

Vincent glanced from the picture of Roxas, to a silver picture frame that held within it a photograph of a couple as he sat back in his chair. The white lie that he'd made himself tell Roxas to relieve the boy and work with his psycological state at the moment was eating away at his stomach, and he resumed rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index fingers.

What he also hadn't told Roxas was that in cases of Dissociative Amnesia, the memory is stored in long term memory, but access to it is impaired because of the psychological defense mechanisms, and those who fall under that state of memory loss retain the capacity to learn new information, and partial or complete recovery of memory is quite possible and highly likely. By lying to Roxas now, he was only giving more fuel to the fire for the time to come when his memories started to return.

"My white lie to help him is only hurting him in the end, isn't it?" Vincent asked himself guiltily, knowing the reason he hadn't been able to tell the truth was because he couldn't bare to see those spiritless eyes on the boy again, not now that they at least weren't able to express the memories he had locked deep within his mind.

But the man frowned and felt his stomach sinking even as he recalled his visit with the boy from just about an hour ago. He'd seen the troubled look in the boy's eyes, and knew it was just a matter of time before the memories started rushing back, and he'd just added heat to the fire.

* * *

**I like this story because just the thoughts and planning of future chapters gets the need for pain and psycological destruction out of my system, though there will always be thought leftover for For You and I, since that still needs to be finished…But anyway, I really hope you liked the first chapter, and even if you don't review (which, I hope you DO plan on reviewing…please) at least put it on your Alert list which I'm sure most of my readers do anyway…but still, I really want reviews and reader's thoughts on this story.**

**Oh, and more characters, like lovely, smexy Axel, will be introduced next chapter, which I plan to have up really soon. And damn, I've got school in just a little more than four hours…sheesh, start of High School will be fun. I can make new friends since I really don't like my current ones…and I can call myself a Freshman! Yay!**


	2. Surface

**Drip, Drip Goes the Rest of My Heart**

Wow, thanks so much everyone for your input! Now that High school's started, I feel as though I need to stab something, and what better way than to write Drip? And **Morgana**, thank you ever so much for your review! I was actually thinking of your wonderful stories when I typed the first chapter, and kept wondering if you would approve since I find your style much more developed and awesome than my own. **D-ANIME-vidogameaddict**, I'm glad that you like this story, and I just love your review as well. And don't feel weird, I feel the same way towards stories like this…otherwise I wouldn't write them, and sorry about your dial up. I myself have the fastest computer in the house, and have never known the annoyance of dial up (but the stories I hear are legendary horror tales). So thanks for the reviews everyone! And I'm glad you're hooked!

**Phase 2 Surface**

When the nurse had stepped in to part the curtains from the window, Roxas had blinked tiredly as he awoke from his light sleep, and the woman smiled gently in greeting. "Good morning, darlin'," she chirped cheerfully as she left the room, forgetting to close the door. The blond boy could hear the hustle and bustle of the hospital halls outside his room, but what really interested him and perplexed him at the same time was that the dark blue curtain was not drawn. It was pulled back all the way, and the small strap held it pinned against the wall. But most importantly, the other bed in the room was now empty. The sheets were folded so perfectly, it looked as though the entire mattress was just a fabric covered box, and the pillow looked as though no head had ever graced it.

Looking around the room, Roxas noticed, slowly yet gradually, that certain things were no longer in the room. A prescription bottle that had been on the counter yesterday was gone; the sticky-notes left by nurses to each other regarding certain ways to do something were gone, though not entirely. Some were still left, but Roxas guessed that they pertained to him and not the girl. Some equipment had even been removed from the room, and for some reason, it seemed to Roxas that that side of the room was now empty. Devoid of life, and abyssal, even. Something about it seemed to make him feel as though it didn't exist, but, it obviously did…so what was bothering him?

'_The fact that it looks as though no one has been there…is the same as erasing their memory_,' the boy concluded to himself, a troubled look falling within his gaze. It's not like he didn't already know that nurses and doctors only cared about you when you needed their help, and it wasn't like he didn't already know that it was their job to move on quickly to the next patient…_but still_…Seeing how they'd made it so that the red haired girl was completely erased seemed to bother him. To erase a person…did they all forget about her as well? The only mark left saying that she'd been here at all in a manila file in an alphabetized filing cabinet in the back of some record room?

Roxas didn't have long to continue thinking about it for the nurse returned just then. In her hands was a plastic tray with an assortment of hospital food and a Styrofoam cup. Setting it down on his lap, she helped adjust the pillows so he was comfortable. "I know hospital food must not look all that great, but it's just this last time you'll need to eat it," she said with a cheerful tone to her words. The blonde boy only gave her a quizzical look, and removed his hand from the plastic silverware placed on the tray beside a folded napkin.

"W-What?" he asked, confusion and curiosity evident in his expression. His golden brows furrowed, and his deep blue eyes stared at the overly-cheerful woman.

The nurse matched his curious look, and waited a moment or two before answering again. Beforehand, she lifted a hand to brush a stray strand of hair away from her forehead and behind her ear. "I guess you didn't know yet?" she said, almost as though to herself. "Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to tell you, Dr. Valentine must have been planning on it but was distracted by that unsuspected surgery," she explained, pointless information to the blonde at the moment. All he wanted to know was what Dr. Valentine had wanted to tell him, and what the nurse knew that he didn't. "You're being discharged today, Roxy," the nurse chirped, using the nickname that the staff had been calling the boy lately, though it was the first time Roxas had heard it.

But he had more important things that he'd just heard to think about. "Discharged? Did my parents or relatives come for me?" he asked curiously, trying to rake his memory and attempt to think of any relatives he may have had, but only coming up with blank thoughts. "Where am I going?" he asked, his curiosity and surprise easily evident on his face.

The nurse looked as though ready to answer, but just then, the pager on her belt began beeping, and she glanced down at it quickly before sending the blonde and apologetic smile, "I'm sorry, darlin', but I've gotta go," she called out hurriedly as she left, this time remembering to close the door. A befallen look spread itself across the boy's face, and he frowned sadly while settling his hands in his lap. He really wanted to know what was going on…but he didn't want to bother any of the nurses since they were obviously busy. The remote to contact the nurses would remain untouched on the right side of the bed.

Instead, Roxas settled back against the pillows after pushing the breakfast tray away just a bit to allow himself to lie down once again. His eyes stung a bit the longer he kept them open, and was a bit curious as to why he would feel this tired. He'd thought he slept pretty long that night, but he couldn't have known he was tossing and turning for nearly the entire time he was asleep. During his dreamless slumber, his mind had been fighting against his will as he tried to subconsciously recover the memories that he'd worked so hard to block out. His entire mental psyche was battling against itself, and for now, Roxas' mind wasn't planning on allowing the memories to come back so soon. Though, the one that slowly slipped through the cracks should not have been released so early.

_The feeling of cold fingers covered in even colder medical-plastic gloves gripping his arms was enough to just send his skin crawling. But the force behind the hands was scaring him, and no matter how hard he resisted the pressure trying to hold him down, he couldn't get up…Cold metal connected with his bare skin and sent a shock through his system faster than licking a 9-Volt battery. "N-No! Stop!" he heard himself cry out in a positively terrified and crazed voice, as though he was trying to escape from the seven hounds of Hell. "Please, stop! Ah!" his begging for whatever was going on to cease was interrupted by a scream of surprise when he felt cold water suddenly being sprayed down onto him, and he shivered and trembled, his naked body becoming soaked._

"_We have to make sure you're clean, Roxas," a kind, calm voice said from above him, and the blonde looked up to see the owner of the two hands holding his body down as the spray of cold water covered him. But the figure stood in shadow, except for his hands._

"_No, please don't!" he screamed out again, closing his eyes against the image, and ignoring the gleaming metal examination table that stood innocently behind the shadowed figure. A tray of gleaming medical instruments was set beside the table, the most eye-catching object being the scalpel. "Stop!" he cried out again, trying to lift himself from his forced down position, and failing._

"Roxas," the voice repeated, as the grip slackened on his body. The boy used it to his advantage to force the hands away, and sit up hurriedly as the entire scene before him vanished into white, and he blinked.

Once…

Twice…

Three times…

And he saw the hospital room walls around him with a relieved expression on his sweat covered face, and it was then he realized that he was panting heavily. He was also once again dressed in the hospital shirt and shorts, and was not wet, save for the perspiration that had gathered on his body. It was then that he felt a strange stinging in his wrist, and glancing down at his hands, his eyes widened and his jaw dropped just a bit in horror and surprise. The bandages had been removed from his hands and fingers, and the pale skin marred with the ugly, criss-crossing scars was openly showing itself. But what horrified him the most, more than the many scars and pink lines lacing around his hands and fingers, were the scars on his wrists and arms, and the fact that his left wrist was now bloodied and scratch marks were visible all across his arm.

His right hand shakily moved to touch his arm, but a feeling of utter horror dropped in the pit of his stomach when he saw the blood and skin stuck underneath his fingernails. Closing his eyes, and opening them again, Roxas felt his breath become stuck in his throat, and a strange squeak-like whine came from him, before it was followed by a scream of terror. Flinging his arms away from his line of vision, he brought his hands up to his face as thought to try and block out what he saw, but only worsened it when the blood on his right hand was smudged across his cheek, and the scratches on his left arm were magnified. Another scream, and he threw his head back against the pillows of the hospital bed as an agonized scream issued forth from his lips, which was followed by another and another, as he desperately clung onto the hospital bed mattress with his trembling and bloody hands.

"Roxas!" a deep voice from somewhere beside him called loudly, and the blonde froze for only half a second before he began trembling again, and then began to shake violently. He then felt a hand touch his shoulder, _Cold hands holding down his body…_and immediately resumed screaming and thrashing about in the bed, banging his head against the pillows. The hand on his shoulder began applying more pressure and another hand centered itself on his stomach, and another set of hands held down his left arm and another hand on his thigh. The cries of his name were drowned out through his screaming, and he began kicking his legs, as though trying to force whoever was holding him down to let go. But his legs were also pulled down against the mattress at his ankles, knees, and just above his knees.

"Stop!" he cried out desperately in the same tone he'd used before, though his voice was hoarse, and a sob choked its way through his throat as tears made their way steadily down his cheeks, some falling near his ears, and others curving around his nose and falling between his lips, leaving a salty taste on his tongue.

"Roxas!" the same voice repeated, though it was louder and more forceful than before, commanding. The pressure on his stomach and right shoulder increased almost to the point of painful, and Roxas trembled against the force of his captors. "Roxas, please calm down," the voice repeated, and the boy's eyes glanced around hurriedly to try and find the owner of the voice, but his vision was blurry, and he couldn't focus on any one thing in the room. He opened his mouth slowly, as though to scream again, but the hand on his stomach quickly lifted and placed itself over his lips, efficiently stopping him from making too much noise. But the action only panicked the boy, and he tried screaming, though the effort was wasted, and so instead bit down on the hand, but surprisingly, it wasn't removed.

"Roxas, please calm down," the voice said gently, the pressure on his right shoulder lightening a little. "You need to calm down yourself, or we'll have to sedate you," the man leaned over so that his face and Roxas' were directly in each other's line of sight, and Roxas blinked a few times, his eyes losing the crazed gleam, and his struggles against his captors slackening to nothing. The sight of familiar ruby red eyes, and also the thick black hair pulled back into a ponytail made him realize that the man was Dr. Valentine.

His grip on the man's hand slowly, but gingerly, loosened till his lips were closed and the man was able to remove his hand from the boy's face. Tears still slid down his cheeks, but his eyes were only watering. The other nurses in the room followed Dr. Valentine's example and let go of the boy, but the man who had held down his left shoulder patted it gently before removing his hand, and the boy glanced over to him to see a tall blonde he hadn't seen before. The man didn't smile or anything useless like that, but just gave him a gentle look. The boy then turned his head to look back towards Dr. Valentine who was gently massaging his right hand where Roxas had bit him.

"I-I'm sorry…" he whispered, his voice very hoarse. It even sounded as though it was hurting him to speak. Dr. Valentine noticed, and motioned for one of the nurses to get the boy some water. He then turned back to Roxas and smiled gently towards him.

"Don't worry about it," he replied. His gaze then flickered over to Cloud, who was still getting over the shock of coming in to find the boy in such a crazed state. "Roxas, this is Cloud. He's going to be taking responsibility of you until this situation is all worked out, like a foster parent," Vincent explained to the boy, watching his face to see if there was any sort of noteworthy reaction. But the boy only nodded, glancing back over towards Cloud. Vincent then reached over and placed his hand gently on Roxas' shoulder, frowning softly when the boy flinched under his touch. "Roxas, was there any specific reason to explain your episode just now?" the doctor asked inquisitively, his eyes trained on the boy's.

The blonde bowed his head, and brought his knees up to his chest, causing the other nurses in the room to flinch from the movement, as though they expected to have to restrain him once again, and the boy bit the inside of his cheek. He wrapped his arms around his legs, and embraced himself tightly, though he would rather embrace a person. "I…I don't know…" he murmured, his voice just a bit muffled. "I…think I remembered something, but I…I…" the boy's voice wavered through his quivering lips, and he buried his face in his knees, quiet sobs quaking through his body and causing him to shake.

"Roxas," Vincent said, rubbing the boy's shoulder in a comforting motion, but knowing it would do no good. The only logical assumption the doctor could make, and also quite easily due to the evidence presented to him, the man knew that the boy must have recalled something. The dark haired man felt his chest ache just like yesterday afternoon after his talk with Cloud. He'd known it was only a matter of time before the memories began to come back, and he hadn't warned Roxas in any way of what kind of nature the memories he remembered contained.

"Dr. Valentine…" the boy said softly after a few moments, lifting his head from his knees to stare directly up at the man. His blue eyes were wide and still tearing, and his expression would have been enough to cause the most uncaring person to feel just a bit of empathy. "Please, tell me…" he began, averting his gaze for a moment as he held both his arms out over towards the man, his arms shaking just a bit, "Tell me…did _**I**_do this to myself? Please tell me what caused this, _please_!" he begged, his voice cracking as tears threatened to spill forth once again.

Dr. Valentine frowned, narrowing his gaze as he glanced around the room to see the other nurses watching with interested curiosity. "All of you leave, _now_," he ordered directly, his eyes flaming. Each and every nurse widened their eyes, and left the room quickly, albeit disappointedly. Cloud made ready to leave as well, and was at the door when Vincent glanced over his shoulder and said, "Cloud, you are allowed to stay, anything concerning Roxas is now your business as well," the dark haired doctor explained softly. Cloud nodded, and closed the door, walking back towards the man and the patient.

Turning back to Roxas, Vincent reached out and took a hold of Roxas' hands, gently pulling them down to rest on the bed. His gaze was filled with sympathy, and his touch had been gentle, but this was so that his words weren't taken in so cruelly. "Roxas, the truth is, we truly aren't exactly sure of what was caused by your…accident…or what you did yourself. With all that happened in your situation before…it wouldn't surprise anyone if a few of these scars were done by yourself," Vincent explained, watching painfully as the boy's expression fell from desperate to broken right before his eyes.

Bowing his head, Roxas trembled, and felt his tears slide down his cheeks and drip down from the tip of his nose. "W…What the hell happened to me!? What was going on!? Why was I suicidal!? _**What the fuck did he do to me!?**_" the boy screamed, his eyes filled with so many conflicting emotions including rage, and desperation, and emotional pain. But he wasn't the only one surprised by his mention of demands. Both Cloud and Vincent had surprised and shocked looks on their faces, and Vincent couldn't help but narrow his eyes in thought.

"Who, Roxas? Who are you talking about?" Vincent asked, his voice soft, but his tone demanding.

"I-I don't know," Roxas answered, feeling as though the man was angry at him for some reason or other, and he turned his gaze away form the doctor. "I'm really sorry, but I really don't know…it's just that, I guess…" he stammered as he stumbled over the words, trying to piece together his answer. "From my dream…he was…I don't know what was going on," the boy admitted, lifting his hands to his face once again and ignoring the fact that he was still smearing his blood over himself.

"I see," Dr. Valentine replied, hiding his disappointment. He didn't want the young man to feel any worse than he already did, and with what the man knew now, he couldn't help but feel as though the fuse to a bomb had been lit, and it was only a matter of time before it exploded, but no one knew where the fuse was. "Don't worry so much about it, Roxas," Vincent said, trying to comfort the young man, even though comforting him was just as useless as feeding a fire dead leaves to try and put it out slowly.

"Now, will you let me clean and re-bandage your hands?" Dr. Valentine asked gently, motioning towards the try that held two rolls of gauze bandage and also an ointment Roxas recognized. He'd had to watch the first time as a nurse had used it on his scars and cuts before bandaging his hands. "I'd originally come to see you and change the dressing on your hands, but you wouldn't wake up, and after I'd gotten the bandages off, well, you woke up. You know the rest," the man added, reaching for one of the gauze rolls. "Ah, Cloud? Could you get me that cloth and the green bottle over there on the counter? I need to clean Roxas' scratches before I apply the ointment," Vincent explained. The blonde man hurried to get the things the doctor had asked for.

Roxas winced when the disinfectant filled the scratches he'd made upon himself, and couldn't help but feel a sickening feeling filled with dread settling into his stomach. '_They don't know…Only I would, and I can't remember if I did, or why…_' the blonde thought to himself hollowly, his mouth feeling dry. But thinking about what he'd seen in his dream, and what he was thinking of now, he tried to push them out of his thoughts and merely focus on what was going on now. He glanced sideways at the other blonde man, Cloud, and looked him over.

Short blonde hair that reminded him of his own since it seemed to enjoy defying Newton's idea of gravity adorned his head. His skin held a light tan, though he still seemed to look pale. Cloud's style was pretty casual, since he wore a burgundy sweater which hung from his shoulders that showed off the black tank top he wore underneath, and a pair of faded blue jeans. The oddest but eye-catching part of his outfit was the black leather boots. Roxas guessed they might be knee-height, but he couldn't be sure since the man was wearing pants. But most of all, Roxas found himself staring into Cloud's eyes with such intrigue that he found himself unable to look away. Similarly just like him, Cloud had very feminine eyes, accented with thick black lashes that only succeeded in making his gaze all the more beautiful. His eyes were a beautiful shade of ice blue, unlike Roxas' cerulean gaze. The only thing about his eyes that confused Roxas was the way that they reminded him of his hands: covered in scars that the reason of origin was yet unknown to him.

Cloud's eyes held such a heavy stare, as though he could look at something, anything, and know so much more about it than anyone else gazing at it. The blonde teen also felt as though the man could just look at someone, and know so much more about them than even they would know with one glance. And the way Cloud held himself, he seemed so reserved, and the gaze he'd given Roxas when Dr. Valentine introduced them, Roxas felt as though Cloud knew almost exactly how he was feeling.

"There, all done," Dr. Valentine stated as he finished bandaging Roxas' hand. He'd quickly covered both hands in ointment and wrapped them up while Roxas was lost in his thoughts about Cloud. The boy nodded his thanks, and watched as Cloud walked over to stand beside Vincent. "Ah, Cloud, I suppose you'll want to speak with Roxas? If you don't mind, I really should be checking up on a few other patients," Vincent said, standing from the chair beside Roxas' bed, and turning to leave, but Roxas' hand reached out and clutched the man's cuff of his doctor's coat. Vincent glanced down at the boy with a curious expression, but not annoyed in the slightest.

"Um, Dr. Valentine?" Roxas began softly, a slightly embarrassed blush crossing his cheeks as he averted his gaze to the empty bed just a few feet away from his own. "I wanted to ask you, about that girl…" Roxas said, his voice trailing off a bit.

But the black haired doctor smiled gently and turned to face Roxas for a few moments, patting his shoulder in a reassuring motion. "Since you seem to be so interested in that girl, her name's Kairi. She was transferred to a local foster home for girls, though it's more formal than Cloud's," Vincent explained, "She's in a situation similar to your own, in a way," the man added, a gentle expression on his face. "Well, I'll leave you two to talk then, see me in my office when you're done, Cloud," Vincent added before taking his leave out the door.

Turning to the boy, Cloud kept his expression emotionless, but still gentle, as was his way, and he stepped over to the chair and sat down, turning the chair so that his legs were spread and he could sit with his arms resting on the back edge of the chair. "So, Roxas, where should I start?" the man began, his voice not truly questioning rather than stalling as he thought his words over.

* * *

The groaning of the old mattress and scuffling on the old wooden floors echoed throughout the hallway, along with the grunts of two young teens-until another sound met the hallway, a sound of slipping, and then a rather loud thump, followed by a moan, and then a very amused laughter broke out. 

"Motherfucking cunt!" the young man snarled angrily, slamming his fist into the wall as his emerald green eyes flamed. The blonde at the foot of the stairs that led up into the attic storage area looked up nervously, and with a bit of a pained expression, towards the redhead above him, his own blue eyes wide.

"Axel, it was an accident!" the blonde cried out in exasperation, though he winced and continued to hp on one foot while clutching the other tightly in his hands. His words seemed to go unheard and unheeded, though, because they young man continued to mutter curses as he stomped his way down the steps till he came to stand just before the last few steps, along with the mattress that had fallen down the stairs, and consequently, the other boy's foot.

"Shut the hell up, Demyx," Axel ordered, his eyes narrowing dangerously. He then turned towards the pink haired boy who was currently in the middle of laughing at the turn of events. "Malurxia shut your face and get your ass over here and help me with this damn thing," the red haired teen barked harshly. But though his words had been enough to make Demyx shrink back in fear, the other boy simply stopped laughing and smirked in Axel's direction.

"Chill out, will you? And why should _I_ have to help?" Malurxia inquired stubbornly, his smirk escalating into a grin at the annoyed expression on the red head's face. "Relax, relax, will ya? I'm getting up," the pinkette said in an annoyed tone, though his grin proved that he found the situation hilarious.

Axel glared at the other, but nonetheless took a hold of one end of the fallen mattress, and Malurxia grabbed the other end, and as Demyx slid out of their way, they lifted it up to about mid thigh-height, and began walking slowly down the hallway. The blonde boy followed behind them, and beside Malurxia. Casting a curious glance towards the red head on the other end of the mattress, Demyx paused a moment before asking, "Say Axel? Why are you so moody about the new boy moving in?" Demyx questioned, his motives innocent enough, but still finding some way to make the redhead glare.

"I don't care about some fucking brat with more problems coming," the boy stated, his voice easily showing off his anger. "I'm just pissed at Cloud for telling me to get down the mattress and get everything set up for the kid," the boy explained, making Malurxia roll his eyes and grunt in more amusement. Demyx frowned and sighed near silently, and stopped at the doorway to the second bedroom to allow room for Axel and Malurxia to bring the mattress into the room. The blonde then followed them inside, and stood against the door frame as the other two boys placed the mattress on the wooden bed frame that the red head had so strenuously had to put together earlier that day. "Jesus, damn that Cloud," the young man muttered. Looking up, and over towards the other side of the room, Axel frowned and cast his leer upon Malurxia and Demyx, "And where the hell is Zexion?"

"Game room, where else?" both Demyx and Malurxia answered. Axel snarled, but didn't say anything. The dark haired member of their little group was usually always located in the game room.

"Say, do you know anything about that kid, Demyx? You were in Cloud's office when he was going over that paperwork, right?" Malurxia asked curiously as the three left the room, Axel still glowering over the fact that he had to take care of getting the bedding on the sheets.

"No, I wasn't able to look at the records before he put them in the cabinet," Demyx replied, putting his arms behind his head. "But I saw his picture since it was right there on top of the file. Cute little blonde," the boy added with a small smile.

"I hope he's nicer than you, Axel," Malurxia tipped in, a smirk on his lips once again. Axel only glared at the two, and looked away as though in disgust and anger.

* * *

**There we go! I said I'd introduce the characters, and I did! But more in-depth introductions will be made next chapter. Not much for me to comment on, except that I love your reviews, and hope you like this new chapter. Also, I was wondering…should I make Cloud and Vincent a coupling? Or use Cloud-Aerith and Vincent-Tifa pairings? Of course, they won't be main couplings, but I was just curious as to how my readers might like to see it.**


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